The Diamond Edition
This For Brothers With Daughters…And Sons…

Those days when my Pops would be absent, and I would wish that one time he did take me from school on a brand new bike of mine was an everyday thing.  But it wasn’t and so it was a one-time thing.  Unfortunately, I know for a fact that I was not the only Brother that has gone through this, been caught in this web, this dirty matrix where we can’t move, express our emotions or cry because our Pops weren’t there.

This the stuff for Brothers with daughters, and sons, because as of recently, I have become accustomed to more Black men with strollers, bobo’s bottles and diapers and doing the damn thing when it comes to Papahood, in a big difference from what we grew up with, and I just wanted to applaud these guys for being there for their children even when the money wasn’t there, because the presence makes a difference.

We have Kings and Queens in our laps to cultivate, minds to raise on the foundations that we build.  And where ours may have started out rocky to stabilize in our growth, we can be a better foundation for our offspring so they won’t feel it..and this is definitely what I see.

It hits me hard to see a Brother I’ve known forever to be into his Marvel Vs. Capcom and Dragonball Z to be playing the same games with his PS Vita, my other brother to raise his infant daughter by her underarms and kiss her fat hischeeks.  Yes, that is a new word, look it up…and another Brother to dress his son just like him.  I think that is the coolest thing in the world!

We are the examples: 

For our daughters: The men that she will date, find attraction in, and gravitate towards, because, they resemble us.  They will have a better idea and foundation of who they are, as we are the very first man that she loves; the most intricate part of how her relationships with men go for the rest of her life.

For our sons: The Brothers they need to be, to survive, not only as Black men, but as providers and supporters for themselves and our Women, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  We show them how to dress, respect ourselves and others, and carry themselves in a general way.

We are the opposite of what our fathers who were not there, were.  Let’s keep breaking the cycle.  Again, we have Kings and Queens in our laps, we have to make sure these crowns stay on.

#FathersDayIsEveryDay.
Photo by Diamond Bradley.

#FathersDayIsEveryDay.

Photo by Diamond Bradley.

Nostrand Avenue; Brooklyn, NY. - Baby Pharoah
Might be the cutest thing I’ve seen in a trainstation in my life.  She was walking, singing her ABC’s with her mother who was dressed in similar garb, but rathered her daughter take the stage herself.
I love when babies smile, but it was a bit hard to get this one to show her teeth.  Yet, when she posed with her arms crossed and the serious face I couldn’t help but feel like a servant to a Queen.
"Ok, ok! I’ll take the picture!  Don’t beat me!"
Photo by Diamond Bradley.

Nostrand Avenue; Brooklyn, NY. - Baby Pharoah

Might be the cutest thing I’ve seen in a trainstation in my life.  She was walking, singing her ABC’s with her mother who was dressed in similar garb, but rathered her daughter take the stage herself.

I love when babies smile, but it was a bit hard to get this one to show her teeth.  Yet, when she posed with her arms crossed and the serious face I couldn’t help but feel like a servant to a Queen.

"Ok, ok! I’ll take the picture!  Don’t beat me!"


Photo by Diamond Bradley.

-My Brother and his son last night.
Of course, I speak for more than myself when I say I’ve had little contact with my Pops, but my Brother has been a totally different presence in his own sons’ life.  
Amidst outside nonsense and influences, my Brother has continued to direct his child, a boy of four years age, where there are little direction for children raise by mothers and fathers who weren’t directed much as children themselves.  
I love my Brother for showing me how it’s done, as a man, racing his child up the block to our house and play wrestling with him ‘til time doesn’t matter.  It isn’t always about what you can buy your kids, but the time and effort you’re willing to give them.  My Brother does that, even if it means watching Power Rangers and changing diapers.
So this post is dedicated to my Brother, my Father as well, and all of us men making efforts no matter what.

-My Brother and his son last night.

Of course, I speak for more than myself when I say I’ve had little contact with my Pops, but my Brother has been a totally different presence in his own sons’ life. 

Amidst outside nonsense and influences, my Brother has continued to direct his child, a boy of four years age, where there are little direction for children raise by mothers and fathers who weren’t directed much as children themselves. 

I love my Brother for showing me how it’s done, as a man, racing his child up the block to our house and play wrestling with him ‘til time doesn’t matter.  It isn’t always about what you can buy your kids, but the time and effort you’re willing to give them.  My Brother does that, even if it means watching Power Rangers and changing diapers.

So this post is dedicated to my Brother, my Father as well, and all of us men making efforts no matter what.

africanviolet:

monochromaticblack:

Little cousin and her mother.

bless

The process of a Queen.
A dream in a gold
womb, flows out seamlessly
clothed in baby robes
royal.  Blues and shining
hues.  Slippers of eagle
feathers and swan wings
all things jeweled
by the age of ten.

Fifteen.  She spreads
her curtain lips showing
sunny smiles of 
pearled whites starting
speech from a mind
in mid-flight.
In fights, she reacts like
a brown Elizabeth I
vicious chocolate 
Victoria. Modern
day Ms. Cleo.  Thoughts
fly in the astral plane
gained knowledge of self
at seven, so no one man
can pull her from her own
haven.  His best bet
is to join her on the throne.

Come 21, many men run
and from, 
not to.  Much to handle
as a Queen
can only take
a King.
Strong mental with eyes
of Isis and Medusa 
combined.  
Back straight, she sits
regally.  With the charm
of a locket that brings
back memories.

africanviolet:

monochromaticblack:

Little cousin and her mother.

bless

The process of a Queen.

A dream in a gold

womb, flows out seamlessly

clothed in baby robes

royal.  Blues and shining

hues.  Slippers of eagle

feathers and swan wings

all things jeweled

by the age of ten.

Fifteen.  She spreads

her curtain lips showing

sunny smiles of

pearled whites starting

speech from a mind

in mid-flight.

In fights, she reacts like

a brown Elizabeth I

vicious chocolate

Victoria. Modern

day Ms. Cleo.  Thoughts

fly in the astral plane

gained knowledge of self

at seven, so no one man

can pull her from her own

haven.  His best bet

is to join her on the throne.

Come 21, many men run

and from,

not to.  Much to handle

as a Queen

can only take

a King.

Strong mental with eyes

of Isis and Medusa

combined. 

Back straight, she sits

regally.  With the charm

of a locket that brings

back memories.

Hey Baby!

Hey Baby!

soulfulandtrue:

ourafrica:

This is Africa, our Africa

my heart just melted.

Wars have been started
for you.  Motherland’s
melon.  Sweet—turned sour.

soulfulandtrue:

ourafrica:

This is Africa, our Africa

my heart just melted.

Wars have been started

for you.  Motherland’s

melon.  Sweet—turned sour.